


so, bleed (bleed with me)

by rosewritings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beating, Blood, Blood and Violence, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Jarchie - Freeform, M/M, Slurs, Violence, archie andrews - Freeform, archie takes care of jughead, jughead gets beat up, jughead jones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 16:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewritings/pseuds/rosewritings
Summary: title is from dodie clark's "intertwined" but it doesn't have any relevance to the fic at all. tw/cw mentions of violence, blood, one homophobic slur, and getting beat up i guess.also this is very medically inaccurate but let it slidei know this is weird and i dont really know why i wrote it but i hope you enjoy it anyways!





	

**Author's Note:**

> title is from dodie clark's "intertwined" but it doesn't have any relevance to the fic at all. tw/cw mentions of violence, blood, one homophobic slur, and getting beat up i guess. 
> 
> also this is very medically inaccurate but let it slide
> 
> i know this is weird and i dont really know why i wrote it but i hope you enjoy it anyways!

“i can’t look at this anymore, juggie, we’ve been sitting in here for hours. we’re at a dead end.”

betty leaned over the small desk in the newspaper office, her head drooping, eyes searching the wood planks of the walls for answers. “i have to go home. i can’t do this right now.” she grabbed her backpack, and clapped her hand on jughead’s shoulder. he sat and let his eyes scan over their self-titled ‘murder board’ for the seventh time in the last hour. betty’s voice was sweet against the cold air creeping in through the small open window. “go home, get some sleep.” 

jughead nods and bids betty a half-hearted goodnight, hearing the door close behind her. the finality of betty’s presence being gone meant jughead could talk out loud to himself. he rubs his chin and yawns, looking at the wall clock ticking away in the corner of the room, almost mocking him. 8:43 pm.

he sits for a while, still trying to piece together jason’s murder as if it would come to him as soon as he was alone; stumbling into a cloud of awakening suddenly. unfortunately, everything still looks like a jumbled up puzzle, and none of the pieces seemed to fit no matter which way he rotated them. it just wasn’t making sense. 

so he calls it a night, book bag over one shoulder and using the key to lock the newspaper office before going to his locker. on his way there, he sees the final group of boys from the football team, leaving with their oversized duffel bags on their broad shoulders. their shoes make empty squeaks and hollow thuds as they walk down the hall, oozing bravado. it’s just him and them, and they’re headed straight in jughead’s direction. 

jughead grabs his books from his locker as quickly as he can, fumbling and feeling his heart speed up. he hears reggie and his group of friends approach him, their laughs echoing through the empty hallway. reggie puts a hand on his locker door, slamming it against the other doors with a strong push. “what are you still doin’ here, nancy drew?” his tone was condescending, reggie’s friends snickering behind him like a laugh track. jughead clenched his jaw. he raised his eyebrows, scared shitless, but still in need of a comeback. “i’m surprised you even know who that is, reggie. did your mom used to read those books to you?” and just like that, jughead feels the crack of reggie’s knuckles against his cheekbone.

there’s a new universe of broken blood vessels spreading along the smooth skin of jughead’s upper cheekbone and over the side of his nose. he feels his knees give out as reggie grabs a fistful of his t-shirt, bringing him up to meet his face. he’s yelling, but jughead’s ears are ringing, so he’s not registering anything that reggie’s saying. he’s probably calling him a faggot, and going on about his deadbeat dad and how his mom couldn’t handle him because he was too fucked up, which is why she left them. the usual stuff.

when reggie let jughead go, he sunk to the floor. the rest of the football boys started in on him, kicking at his ribs. reggie just watched for a while. he spews profanities, blaming jughead for jason’s murder and going on about how he’s just some twisted kid who probably got off on the sight of blood. if that were the case (which is obviously wasn’t), jughead should have had a raging hard-on, because there was blood _everywhere._

when they’re finally done with him, and have given him enough cuts and bruises for the night, they take off. jughead is sat up against his locker door, holding his bloody nose and feeling his ribs close in tighter against his organs. it hurts, it hurts so bad that he can barely even breathe, and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

they’ve kicked his book bag to the other side of the hall, likely denting his laptop and spilling the contents over the floor. jughead crawls over, drops of blood smearing on the cold tile beneath his hands. jughead reaches in, wincing at the shooting pain in his shoulder, and grabs his phone.

archie is driving when his phone starts to ring, and he pulls over to answer it when he sees jughead’s name on the caller id screen. it’s almost 9:30 now, and he was too tired to go to pop’s, so he hopes jughead wouldn't ask. he would feel bad for saying no, but he’s got a stack of homework on his desk at home with his name written all over it. 

“what’s up jug?” jughead is breathing heavily on the other end, pained sighs going into the receiver and out archie’s side. archie’s tone turns from lighthearted to urgent. “are you okay? jughead?” “archie, help. please.” archie’s brain kicks into overdrive and he thinks of all the places that jughead could be right now. “where are you?” as soon as jughead chokes out “school,” archie pulls a u-turn in the middle of the street and floors it back to riverdale high. 

most of the lights are off when he gets there, and all he can hope for right now is that jughead isn’t dead. he parks in the middle of the parking lot, jumping out and dashing into the school with his phone ready to call 911. 

he slides along the hallways and comes to a screeching halt when he sees jughead leaning against his locker, his arms across his middle and his hat soaked in his own blood. he’s lit by the dim fluorescent lighting, and jughead looks up in archie’s general direction with a desperate look spilled across his features. jughead is scarcely breathing, and archie doesn’t know what the fuck made jughead call archie instead of the police. 

archie shoots down the hall, kneeling next to jughead when he gets to him. “jughead, what happened?” jughead opens his mouth to talk, blood spilling from the corners as he looks up at archie. “i don’t know. help.” “is anything broken?” archie can see his nose gushing, which kind of answers his question. “can you stand?” jughead hasn’t really tried to move much, so he just moves his head any way that doesn’t hurt. 

archie moves one hand under jughead’s back and the other over his shoulder, pulling him up. jughead sucks a breath through his teeth and feels his weight on his legs, blood coating his teeth and his gums. archie is almost fully supporting him, carrying him through the school and back to his car. 

when he closes his car door, he turns the key in the ignition and starts off on the way to the hospital. “not the hospital, please,” jughead whines, cringing at the pain deep within his stomach. “why not, jughead? you probably have bruised ribs and maybe a broken nose. why wouldn’t i take you to the hospital?” archie has an urgency in his voice that jughead had never heard before. jughead leans back, breathing shallowly. “they’ll call my dad, arch. please. no hospital.”

archie grits his teeth, turning back towards the andrews’ residence, and he pulls into a spot in front of his house. he slides one hand under jughead as jughead puts an arm around archie, supporting himself as archie carries him out of the passenger’s seat and into his house. fred isn’t home, which archie is silently thankful for.

archie takes jughead up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he puts jughead down on the edge of the porcelain bathtub and archie lets him go. “i’ll be right back. don’t move.” he dives into his bedroom and under the bed, a dusty first aid kit in his hands as he goes back into the bathroom.

he carefully undresses jughead, taking off his bloody layers of t-shirts and running his hat under cold water to get the blood stains out. he gives jughead two pain killers and an ice pack to hold to his face. archie discards the clothes and takes in jughead’s body, littered with blooming bruises on his ribs and hips. he grabs a wet face cloth for jughead to wipe some of the blood off with. 

archie tips his head back and checks out jughead’s nose. “that looks broken, jughead. like, bad.” the pain killers start to kick in and jughead’s strained voice comes out. “i know… it was… r-reggie. reggie.” archie’s eyes go dark, jaw and fist clenching. archie looks like he’s going to grab his keys and sprint out the door right then. “i’ll kill him, jug. i swear to-“ “stop. stop archie.” maybe if he knew that archie and jughead were together, like _together_ together, or if he knew about archie’s mean right hook, he’d lay off. archie’s blood boils as he wets a cotton round with rubbing alcohol, telling jughead that it’s gonna hurt, and he presses it to the boy’s swollen lip. 

by the time jughead is cleaned up, he looks rough. obviously, the bruises have just gotten worse, turning deep purples and bright reds and repulsive greens. they’re colours that you should never see on your skin, but instead should remain on the colour wheel.

he’s got a cut across his bottom lip, a slice mark on his right cheekbone, and a more-crooked-than-before nose. archie had taken sports medicine for a few years now, so he knew how to bandage things and put things back in place. jughead’s nose was in it’s rightful place now, a hilarious looking bandage atop the scrapes and bumps, but archie still urged him to see a real doctor before pretending it was all fixed up. 

archie’s letterman jacket was hanging up on the bathroom door behind him, and there were bloody handprints on the back, and on the walls, and on the sides of the bathtub where jughead was sitting right now. “sorry about…” he gestures to the bathroom. “this. and your coat.” archie just shakes his head. “don’t be. what happened back there?”

jughead fiddles with his fingers in his lap, looking anywhere but at archie. “i made some offside comment and got my ass beat. as usual.” archie sighs, grabbing jughead’s shaky hands and enveloping them in his own. jughead lets out a wavering breath. “they accused me of murder, archie. they think i fucking killed jason and i don’t… i dont know why…” archie feels his heart race with anger, breaking at jughead’s soft voice. “why does everyone think i did it?” his voice is quiet, quieter than he’s ever heard it before. jughead’s eyes are pleading as he looks up at archie, archie just shaking his head. “i don’t know, jughead. i don’t know.” 

archie puts his forehead against jughead’s, closing his eyes momentarily and letting his thumb run across jughead’s jaw. it’s the only place that isn’t bruised. “i won’t let them do that again, jughead. i’m sorry i wasn’t there.” jughead’s squeezing archie’s hand as hard as he can. “it’s not your fault, archie.” archie breathes onto jughead’s lips and he kisses him, and jughead winces, but the pain is worth the pleasure of kissing archie.

his hand releases from archie’s as he grabs his face, a little patch of blue-red blood slicking across his jawline and over his neck. archie kisses jughead back, careful and calculated, but it’s a kiss nonetheless. jughead has a pained look on his face when he pulls away, and he’s breathing through the sobs that are choking at his throat. 

the next day, jughead stays at archie’s instead of going to school because he can’t face anyone like this. he wouldn’t be able to handle the questions and concerns from betty or veronica, so he lays in bed, wincing whenever he has to move a limb or pick up a glass of water. 

but, word gets back to jughead somehow that reggie gets beat up so bad after school that he can’t play in the finals, with a fractured wrist and a broken ankle. their group chat of all of their friends doesn’t spare any gory detail, from the broken tooth to the tuft of hair ripped out of his head. no one knows who did it, because no one saw or heard anything. 

archie comes home from football practice and meets jughead at the top of the stairs, taking in jughead’s injuries once again. “looks like things are getting better. how does your face feel?” jughead smiles, kissing archie so hard he almost tumbles backwards down the stairs. 

when they sleep in the same bed that night, jughead pretends he doesn’t notice archie’s bruised knuckles and patch of blood on his t-shirt. jughead kisses archie’s knuckles, bruises against bruises, and they kiss each other too. they move around each other and jughead is flesh against archie as they doze off. 

and reggie doesn’t bother jughead ever again.


End file.
